Beyond : Series Bundle (9781311505637)

by Miller, Maureen A.

  “Great!” His eagerness now seemed forced but he clapped his hands together again, and announced, “Let’s go.”

  As they started towards the front door, Raja drew Aimee aside. “I’d like to stay here if I could.”

  Concern flooded Aimee’s eyes. “Do you feel alright? Were you hurt yesterday and didn’t tell us?”

  “No, nothing like that.” Raja shook her head. “I just want—I just want to stay inside for now.” The deception roiled in her stomach, but when she glanced down, her dress did not change colors to reveal the turbulence there. “I’d like to watch your television...and eat a donut.”

  “Or five—” Aimee added with a quick grin. “What you want is to be a couch potato.”

  “Couch potato?” In the living room the navy upholstered couch grew no garden, although it did bask in the sun from the bay window.

  “Never mind.” Aimee’s expression sobered. “I don’t want to leave you here alone. That did not work out well yesterday.”

  “Your law people are around, and I’m just going to stay inside.”

  Reaching into her purse, Aimee extracted a device that resembled a baby JOH...if JOHs had babies, that is.

  “This is a spare cell phone. Dad gave it to me last night. You press this button on top,” she instructed and waited until Raja did so. The digital panel lit up.

  “Now press this button,” Aimee ordered.

  Raja obliged. More digital readouts followed.

  “There are four numbers stored in here for now. If you select the top number it will call me.” She opened her purse to reveal a secondary phone.

  Committing that information to memory, Raja asked, “What are the other three numbers?”

  “Those are my most recent calls. The second is my parents, so if you need my mother to come over in an emergency, you press the second number. The third is the FBI guy and the fourth is the police. If someone shows up that you don’t trust, press the fourth number.”

  Raja nodded. If it was indeed a baby JOH, it possessed no face, no voice...and no opinion.

  “What’s going on?” Zak joined them.

  “Raja would like to stay home.”

  “Are you sure that is wise?” He frowned.

  Raja mirrored his frown. “How much trouble can I get into if I watch television and eat donuts?”

  “Is there a problem?” Tom Patterson stuck his face in the doorway.

  “No, we’re on our way. Raja is just going to sit this one out. Maybe tomorrow.” Aimee reached forward and hugged her. “First number,” she whispered into her shoulder.

  With Aimee following her father out the door, Zak lingered. He touched Raja’s arm and his expression looked stern. He was a formidable character, but Raja refused to be intimidated.

  “Don’t do it,” he urged.

  “Do what?”

  “I know you heard that sound from the property next door. It was probably the police.”

  “Do we hear better than mecaws?”

  “Probably,” he reasoned. “But there’s no telling how we will adapt over time.” Hesitating, he added, “Raja, don’t do anything foolish.”

  “I won’t.”

  Zak stared at her a moment as if he could extract her intentions. “The star laser is in that cabinet.” He nodded towards a panel in the corner of the dining room. “I don’t have to tell you what the repercussions would be if you ever used it. But I also want you to be safe.”

  Raja had known Zak since he was a young orphan brought aboard the Horus. His path on that ship took him in a different direction, but even with her reserved upbringing and her reluctance to connect, she did consider him a friend. Over time, she realized that he and Aimee were the closest she had to family. And it felt good to know that her family was looking out for her.

  She smiled. “Tell me about this automotive plant when you return, Zak. Let me know if they have laboratories.”

  Gold eyes flashed over a grin. “Confess the truth, Raja. You would rather that I go listen to Aimee talk non-stop about vehicle manufacturing for the next two hours.”

  Concealing a giggle behind a cough, she murmured, “I am sure that it will be very entertaining.”

  “Zak?” Aimee bellowed.

  He raised his eyebrows. “And so she calls...”

  As he started to pull the door closed behind him, he looked in one last time and said, “Stay inside, Raja. Please.”

  Chapter Six

  Clarity. The house was so still, she could hear the forked feet of the robins bobbing around on the roof. Whatever the foreign sound was on the adjacent property had ceased. Inside, it was like a vacuum. Light from the window scored the living room, and in its path a nebula of dust floated through the rays. She eyed the dormant television. Aimee taught her how to use it, but the thought of breaking this peace disturbed her. Besides, she wanted to be able to hear what was going on in the distance.

  Raja stepped up to the window and splayed her palm against the glass. It was warm to the touch. There was a clicking sound in one of the rooms upstairs. A time device. A clock. Outside in the trees a bird took flight from a high branch, the soft flutter of its wings sounding so near, as if it had launched from her shoulder.

  Pressing her cheek against the glass, reveling in the warmth, she tried to see into the adjacent field, but the bushes obstructed her view.

  Where had the police car gone? What if they were at the red barn and had met with trouble?

  Stay inside, Raja.

  Yesterday, when she had trekked to the lake for a swim, she had been ignorant. Ignorance was not to be tolerated. It would not be repeated. The man with the dramatic dark eyes— Craig—did not reprimand her for her ignorance. He seemed to battle his own inner critic as well. What if she could help him?

  How could she help him?

  Nestled in the weeds out back was the dilapidated garage where they had encountered Aimee’s father. Even though the interior had been dark, Raja remembered the decaying shelves layered in grime. Soiled cans and bottles lined the workbench like a macabre rendition of her polished laboratory. Surely something in there would be useful.

  Raja opened the front door and stood on the porch, her head inclined towards the driveway. A soft wind whistled in her ears, but the air was heavy with heat and moisture. An engine sounded, but not from the ground...from above? She cowered, looking up, only to find bulbous milky clouds with flashes of brilliant blue sky.

  Determined, she jogged down the steps and kept running until the wooden door slammed shut behind her, trapping her in shadows, stench, and a strangling heat. Waiting the few seconds for her sight to acclimate, Raja began surveying the rusted cans and soiled bottles. Most were empty—evaporated. A canister with a twist knob on top piqued her interest. Unscrewing it, she wrinkled her nose at the acrid scent. It was perfect. Crouching down she scanned the space beneath the workbench only to find it empty. On top of the workbench were some soiled cloths and a white can with green print. Insecticide. It was hard to read the ingredients, but she caught sight of words she was able to translate into rudimentary science.

  Clutching the awkward ensemble, she peeked out the crack in the door, but already knew that the vicinity was empty. Darting back to the porch, Raja hastened into the kitchen and dropped the cans on the counter. She liked the kitchen. It had a long island for workspace and plenty of cabinets made of lustrous wood. The large two-basin sink was similar to the working tubs she had in her laboratory. This kitchen was the closest association she had with the Horus. It just needed more glass. Assessing the jumble on the counter, she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

  There was only one more ingredient to go.

  At the front door she blocked out the sound of the clock and the creature barking in the distance...and listened. As best she could tell, the immediate area was still. Before cowardice could claim her, she pushed on the screen door...and hesitated. Looking back over her shoulder, she went to the beautiful white box, flipped it open and drew ou
t a powdered-sugar donut. Managing two hasty bites, she placed the remainder back in the box—a reward to consume when she returned as a victor.

  * * *

  Raja hid in the trees, surveying the red building with its broad double-doors, one splintered and askew from the force of Craig’s shoulder. No motion could be detected through the white-framed windows. There was no noise—only a strange tumult of insects that sounded like an ensemble of discordant tak wands.

  After a precautionary delay, Raja darted to the broken door. There, the clash of light against shadows blinded her. For a moment she wished she had brought the star laser despite Zak’s warning—not that she was any good with the weapon.

  Sun filtered through the tarnished windows affording enough light to search the empty interior. She paused for a moment, eyeing the beam she and Craig had been tied to. It was the closest she had ever been to a man. The sensation of his arm linked with hers brought on a bout of vertigo. Brawny biceps rubbed against her with an illicit friction. Forearms with fine dark hairs had reached for her.

  Even now the perspiration bubbled up on her forehead at the recollection. His voice had been so deep, so assuring.

  Raja cocked her head. Was someone outside? Paralyzed, she listened again, satisfied that she was alone. Wasting no time dwelling on the scene, she ducked into the corner and located the crate still intact. There were signs that it had been inspected, but she still combed for any leftover residue. There! Scraping the talc into the plastic bag she had taken from the kitchen, she was certain there was enough accumulated to conduct her test. Hugging the wall, mimicking Craig’s motions, she peered out the window to scan the lot outside.

  What was her primary motivation here? Curiosity? Boredom? A need to tinker with potions? Or was she looking for a means to impress the tall man with the earth-colored eyes? If it was the latter, then this atmosphere was affecting more than her respiratory and auditory capacity.

  * * *

  Having followed Aimee’s every move as she prepared dinner last night Raja had memorized the contents of the kitchen. Squatting down to the tall drawer that contained the pots, she grabbed a handle, hoisting it atop the stove. Next, she untwisted the rusted canister from the garage and poured the clear liquid into the pot. There wasn’t much left. It barely covered the bottom of the tub.

  Raja crossed her arms and studied the dials on the oven. Which one was it again? Touching the knob furthest to the right, she squeaked when flames shot out of a vacant burner. Hastening for the knob, she turned it off and tried the one beside it. Perfect. Fire now danced beneath her battery acid. Picking up the white can next, she turned it upside down, searching for a method to open it. She pressed the button on top expecting that it was a release mechanism. Yelping when a stream of liquid shot out and chilled her bare toe, Raja wrinkled her nose against the scent. It was unpleasant, but not toxic to breathe. She pointed the trigger towards the pot and sprayed its contents inside.

  Instantly, her eyes watered in retaliation to the vapors emanating from the boiling concoction. Rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, she stepped back and waited a few moments, eyeing the substance in the plastic bag. She smiled. For the first time she felt comfortable in this new world. She felt productive. Being idle did not sit well with her. When they left the Horus they took only a few items of importance that could be carried in their hands or fastened to their bodies. She had made a quick sweep of her lab and grabbed the most recent potions in her repository. None of them were applicable for the task at hand. They were mostly medicinal serums, but engaging in this test inspired her to get back to them soon.

  Hearing the liquid churn atop the oven, she reached forward and shut off the flames. The acrid scent attacked her eyes again as she waited for the mixture to cool. Flipping open cabinet doors she located a glass bowl and set it down on the counter. Using a towel she grabbed the handle of the pot and poured its contents into the glass bowl. Lastly, she picked up the clear plastic bag and tipped it sideways allowing the white powder to flake into the bowl.

  And then she waited.

  Within seconds the clear liquid turned blue, and then ultimately, a deep shade of purple. A grin yanked at her lips. Opiates. Just as Craig had suspected.

  Pronouncing the experiment a success, Raja frowned at the purple substance.

  Now what?

  Had Craig’s lab been able to produce these results? She knew all about hypotheses. They meant nothing until they were substantiated with fact. Craig suspecting that he was dealing with opiates meant little until he proved it scientifically.

  On the corner of the granite counter sat Aimee’s cell phone. Raja eyed it nervously. How mad would Aimee be if she called the man to assure him that his theory was correct? After all, he had tried his best to protect her. It was not his fault that he didn’t possess a mirror to reflect the sun and cause a ray precise enough to weaken their bonds.

  Raja walked up to the phone and pressed the button on top. It lit up. She tapped the icon that said menu. There it was. The third number. Beyond the kitchen counter, the donut box tempted her. Her finger hovered over Craig’s digits. The one component that Aimee had not addressed was what to do after she pressed the number.

  Raja’s finger trembled. Where was JOH when she needed him? JOH connected her with whoever she needed. JOH did all the talking. She never had to talk much.

  With an unintentional jerk, her finger grazed the face of the device, and before she knew it, the small monitor was lit up and an ambiguous head appeared. It was a grey head with no eyes and no mouth. Would it speak to her?

  She heard a soft ring emanating from deep inside the phone. Clutching the device closer to her ear, she jumped when a man’s voice sounded.

  “Buchanan.”

  “Hello?” she whispered, trying to emulate the angle of Aimee’s head when she had spoken into the device.

  “Who is this?”

  “I—”

  * * *

  As faint as it was, Craig recognized the voice instantly.

  “Raja?” his fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

  “I—”

  “Are you okay?” He scanned the GPS. He had been traveling for close to five hours and was now twenty-four miles away from the Patterson house.

  “I—”

  “Raja, listen to me, are they there with you? Are they holding you?”

  “No.”

  Craig frowned and pressed his foot down on the gas.

  “Did you see something?” he probed.

  “No,” she hesitated, “I—”

  A crash sounded in his ear.

  “Raja!” his fist clenched the wheel. “Are you alright?”

  The delay in response motivated him to depress his foot even further. The Hyundai shot to ninety miles-per-hour.

  “Yes, I’m okay. I dropped something—the handle was hot.”

  “Listen to me,” he commanded. “As long as you are safe, stay right there. I am less than a half hour away. I’m on my way.”

  * * *

  There was no sign of the local police parked before the Patterson house. It would be an optimistic stretch to hope that they were making a circuit around the King barn. Craig suspected that more likely their superiors had deemed their time would be better vested elsewhere. With Raja being his first priority, he decided to check out the barn later and make heads roll if no patrol units were to be found.

  Out of the car and up the porch stairs, Craig pounded on the door. It opened immediately.

  The first thing he noticed was the rim of white powder around Raja’s lips. The second thing he noticed was the cotton dress she wore that was diaphanous enough to give him a glimpse of the lacy bra beneath it. The last thing that he noticed was that there was no one else in the room behind her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked huskily.

  Raja nodded and raised those white-speckled lips into a beaming smile.

  “I have to show you something. Come with me.” Before he could form a
response, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Craig to ponder the female race.

  As he crossed into the galley-style room, he found Raja resting a hip against the counter, her fingertips tickling the rim of a glass bowl.

  “Your lab probably told you this already, but I know some scientists are slow, so I thought I would go ahead and test, just in case—”

  Craig eyed the purple water. “Test what?”

  “The white powder from the barn,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You were right. It is an opiate.”

  “I need to sit down,” he mumbled.

  Worry twitched her lips. To make matters even more bizarre, she reached out and grazed her finger across his cheek. He jerked his head back.

  “Is it that?” she asked softly. “Does that mark still trouble you?”

  All the protests of you do not touch a federal agent died on his lips. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face as she proceeded to trace the scar on his cheekbone, following the motion of her finger with a sweep of her eyes—both so tender. Irrationally, he wanted that hand to open and feel her warm palm against his skin.

  “It’s an old scar from a high school football game. I was kicked in the face with a cleat.” It didn’t seem to matter what he said, she was lost in her scrutiny, rubbing her thumb along a defect he had nearly forgotten. “And no,” his voice was husky, “it doesn’t trouble me.”

  When her eyes met his, his breath hitched. And when that glance inadvertently dropped to his lips it was all he could do not to grab that wandering hand, and draw her closer.

  Whoa. Too much time behind the wheel and too little sleep seemed to be taking its toll. Craig grabbed one of the stools beside the counter and hauled it back so that he could drop down into it.